An Inescapable Past
by Hanna Catherine
Summary: Mustang's eye sight has been restored. Havoc is up on his feet again. But something is, missing… As Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye start a new chapter in their long and complicated relationship, both find it cut short as a deadly and much more powerful enemy comes into play: the past. A past both Mustang and Hawkeye had hoped they would never have to face again...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

"I'm telling ya, you have to do it!" Havoc beams. "You have to tell her how you feel!"

Mustang swirls the drink in his glass as he takes a sip and responds, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

Havoc roles his eyes. "You know you love her," he prods. "Why keep denying it?"

Mustang takes another sip. "One cannot deny something if they have said nothing at all," he replies. "So therefore you have no right to make any of these assumptions."

"But I'm totally right!" Havoc laughs as he puts a hand on Mustang's shoulder and sighs. "Man, you need a girlfriend. Unfortunately the only other girl I know is _my_ girlfriend, and we both know I'm not giving her up. She's too cute for you," he teases.

"But seriously, all you have to say is 'will you go on a date with me' and you're set!" Havoc takes a swig of beer and smirks. "Besides, we both know she loves you too..."

Mustang doesn't answer.

"How long have you known each other, 14 years?"

Mustang ignores the question as he finishes his beverage and stands up. "Thank you for the drink, but I should be heading home."

"Alone," Havoc scoffs as Mustang starts towards the exit. "You know, it would only take those little words to get her to act on the feelings she has for you."

Mustang halts for a few seconds as he reaches the doorway.

"Do it and you'll have the girl of your dreams!" Havoc yells.

Mustang pushes the door open. "I suppose that's true," he whispers to himself as he steps out into the night. "And for the record, it's 15 years!"

The door closes behind him. "I've known Riza Hawkeye for 15 years..."

* * *

As he walks to his office the next morning, Mustang can't help but think about Havoc's words.

 _"_ _She loves you too..."_

 _"_ _Get her to act on the feelings she has for you."_

 _"_ _Do it and you'll have the girl of your dreams!"_

"General?"

Mustang jumps as he turns to see Hawkeye following behind him, an arm-full of papers.

"Lieutenant?" he responds, putting his calm and collective facade back into place.

"I got a letter from my late Aunt stating she's in Central and would like to see me. May I have leave of work from 10:00 to 12:00 tomorrow morning?" she asks.

"Fine with me," he answers.

"Thank you sir."

Hawkeye holds up a piece of paper from the stack in her hands. "You've also received a letter from the Elric brothers. They've currently met up in Xing with May Chang and Emperor Ling Yao, and are now on their way back to Drachma to complete their research."

"Are they now?" Mustang replies, smugly.

"Yes sir," she nods. "Alphonse especially has been enjoying all the different cuisines."

Mustang chuckles. "Sounds about right. He wanted to eat everything once he got his body back."

"Indeed." Hawkeye puts the letter back on the stack and continues down the hall.

They stay silent for a while, only their footsteps echo off the walls. However, Mustang can still hear Havoc's words ringing in his ear.

A minute later, he stops mid-stride and turns to face her.

"Sir?" she asks.

"I have a test for you."

Hawkeye straightens as she puts a hand to her forehead and salutes. "Yes, General."

Mustang hesitates, he's never been so nervous. But he takes a deep breath and finally finds the courage to say the one thing he's always wanted to. "I need you to meet me tonight at the bench in the middle of Douglas park at 8:15 for a date."

Hawkeye doesn't hid her surprise as she starts to lower her arm, but reconsiders and salutes once more.

"Yes sir," she responds, straight-faced.

Mustang turns back and continues down the hall, towards his office. "Very well," he exclaims, trying to hide his rather flushed face.

Hawkeye follows shortly after, her heart beating fast.

As they reach the office, Armstrong exits the one adjacent.

"Oh, Lieutenant," he interjects, right before they enter. "I'm afraid you're needed in the artillery room. A bit of our new personnel need some help handling firearms."

Hawkeye looks at Mustang. "If you'll excuse me sir," she says.

Mustang watches them go, his eyes primarily on Hawkeye, Armstrong by her side. He sees her blonde hair glisten in the sunlight before he shuts the door, leaving a barrier between him and the rest of the world.

He does not see, however, Hawkeye's blushing face a minute later. Or the way she bites her lip as she presses the files tightly to her chest.

Armstrong, on the other hand, is close enough to see her smile.

"Are you alright Lieutenant?" he asks.

Hawkeye quickly wipes the expression off her face, responds in a serious tone, "Yes, I'm fine thank you."

"Alright," he replies, brushing his suspicion aside.

Hawkeye carries on, trying to contain her excitement, unaware of the smile on _Mustang's_ face as he leans against his desk. His face also quite red.

"I guess you win, Havoc," he whispers. "I guess you win..."

* * *

The night is dark when he arrives. The air warm and the breeze faint. The park quiet and the area deserted. Mustang can see the moonlight's glow between the branches of the trees. See the stars twinkle overhead. It's a truly beautiful night.

He puts the flowers in his hand on the bench before sitting down himself, his heart racing but his breath slow and easy.

He doesn't turn when he hears Hawkeye approach. Doesn't look her in the eye when she sits down beside him.

"Mustang," she says, keeping her gaze on the mountains in the distance.

"Hawkeye," he replies, also looking out into the night.

They don't turn to each other. Don't let out any cries of hello or shake each others hand. Any signs that they really know each other at all. To any ordinary person they look like complete strangers. Just two people taking a late night stroll in the park, sitting down for a quick rest.

But a few seconds later, if anyone were really there to see it, they would see the man quickly wrap his arms around the woman and press his lips to hers.

See her put a hand to the his face as his encircle her neck, both savoring the kiss they'd been waiting for for so long.

When they finally part, Mustang grabs her hand and whispers gently.

"I love you."

Hawkeye blushes. "I figured sir."

Mustang smiles as he shakes his head. "Would it pain you to call me Roy?"

"Roy," she says softly before being pulled into another kiss, the light of the stars shinning down upon them, and the night quiet as they sit on the bench in the middle of the park...

* * *

Mustang's apartment is dark when they enter. The moonlight streams through the window, casting a shadow across Hawkeye's face as the door closes behind her.

Mustang immediately moves to kiss her, forcing her to put an arm against the wall to support herself as he does. The room is quiet and lonely, it looks as if it hasn't received guests in quite a while. It makes her feel kind of special, being there. Being in a place he hasn't shared with anyone in a long time.

She grabs the back of his head and runs her fingers through his hair. It's thick and soft and comforting. He's comforting.

When he starts to kiss her neck she asks, "Was it Havoc who convinced you?"

Mustang looks at her and grins. "No one had to convince me that I loved you. I at least figured that out on my own."

When he picks her up, Hawkeye giggles as he carries her to the next room, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck.

Mustang drops her on the bed rather sloppily. "Sorry," he says. "That was a lot more graceful in my head..."

Hawkeye just laughs as she sits at the foot of the bed, starts to button down his shirt.

The room is darker than the first. There are no windows to shine in any moonlight. No stars to help brighten up the shadows. But Hawkeye can still see Mustang's twinkling eyes staring back at her, see his fingers brush a strand of her long blonde hair across her cheek and tuck it behind her ear.

He looks at her with a look she's never seen before. A look that's soft and reassuring. Hawkeye knows he truly loves her in that moment, but can do nothing but stare as his shirt slides down his muscular arms and onto the floor.

Hawkeye slowly reaches out to touch his bare chest, knowing that once she does, there will be no turning back. Her fingers brush across his skin. He's warm and soft, his arms are inviting. She knows she can trust him.

Mustang slips her shirt over her head, gazes back into her brown eyes. He puts a hand behind her head and gently leans forward, laying her on her back.

Hawkeye stares up at him and smiles.

 _Besides. S_ he thinks.

 _I don't want to turn back..._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Hawkeye wakes to the touch of Mustang brushing through her hair with his fingers, holding her as if she was as precious as a diamond, as fragile as glass. She smiles as she lifts her head off his chest and looks up into his sleepy eyes.

"Did I pass the test?" she asks quietly, eyes barely opened.

He doesn't respond. Instead he puts a hand under her chin and kisses her lips.

She puts her head back on his chest. "I'll take that as a yes," she whispers.

The sun shines in from the other room, illuminating their faces. They lay there for a while, embracing, taking in every breath, every heartbeat.

A few minutes later Hawkeye quickly sits up, covers to her chin, and asks. "What time is it?"

Mustang turns to the clock on his right. "9:20."

She quickly bends over the side of the and bed and grabs her clothes. "I'm supposed to meet my Aunt at 10:00," she realizes.

Mustang sits up to face her. "Oh, that's right."

He takes the shirt from her hands and helps her put it on, tracing his fingers down her spine, covering the tattoo he'd long since been ashamed of burning. He'd never forgotten that horrible day.

"You know, those scars haunt me every day of my life," he whispers, unable to touch her in that moment.

Hawkeye turns to face him. "It was my decision not yours. I did it fully aware of what it entailed and accepted the consequences." She puts a hand to his cheek. "Even though you may think differently, I am grateful for it everyday. You helped me let go, Roy, and that is one debt I will never be able to repay."

Mustang pulls her in tight, kisses the top of her head. They just sit there, holding one another, warm under the covers.

Hawkeye can feel his breath against her skin. He smells like he always does, comforting and risk-free. She feels safe in his arms. She has always felt safe with him by her side.

After a minute, Mustang pulls the covers aside, proceeds to put on his navy blue uniform while she finishes putting on the rest of her clothes.

When they finally finish dressing, they move out of the bedroom and towards the door.

"So I'll see you at noon?" Mustang asks as he steps into the hallway.

Hawkeye kisses him softly and winks. "Yes, General."

Mustang puts a finger to his mouth and shushes.

Hawkeye glances deep into his dark eyes, "I love you."

He smiles as they hug goodbye, wraps his arms around her tightly and whispers, "I love you too."

* * *

"Hey Roy?"

"Roy Mustang?"

"General!"

Mustang shakes his head, bringing him back to the moment. He sits across from 2nd Lieutenant Breda whom doesn't look very pleased with his lack of attention.

"Did something happen sir? Are you alright?" Breda leans over his desk and stares.

"Do you need to eat something? I'm starving. I could get us some food or-"

"I'm fine, I was just thinking about something that's all," Mustang interjects.

Breda looks a bit deflated, "Oh, okay."

"General Mustang!"

Both of their heads turn to see Fuery in the doorway, out of breath and looking rather distraught. He stands tall and salutes, "I have news sir."

Mustang gestures him to go on.

"We have received word that A. Sutton Hawkeye from South Area was found dead in her home at 9:47 this morning by a bullet wound through the heart. We have yet to find any witnesses and have turned up no leads as to the culprit."

"Hawkeye?" Mustang asks.

Fuery straightens once again, "Yes sir. After closer investigation, we have concluded that the victim is and was the late Aunt of Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye of Central Command."

Mustang looks confused. "The body was found in Central?

"No sir," he replies. "The body was found in the South Area of Amestris in a town called Portacoli."

Mustang's stands up. "But she sent Riz—I mean Lieutenant Hawkeye a letter stating that she was in Central and wanted to see her."

Fuery just stands there nervously, "I'm afraid you must be mistaken. When they found Ms. Hawkeye's body, it was at least three weeks old. She hasn't be in Central any time recently."

Mustang shakes his head and yells, "So you're telling me that either the Lieutenant is lying or the letter she received was a fake?"

Fuery doesn't respond, he turns to Breda who's just as baffled as he is. They watch Mustang's eyes go wide as he orders, "Fuery, bring me that file. Now!"

"Yes sir!"

* * *

Mustang sits in his office an hour later, slams the report of the murder onto his desk.

"It doesn't make sense!" he says to himself, putting a hand to his forehead and sighing. His efforts to contact Hawkeye had failed and his nerves were beginning to rattle now that it was past noon, past the time she had stated she would return.

Mustang goes back to checking the clock, a task he has done about 20 times in the last minute.

It wasn't like Hawkeye to be late. She had always been compliant and true to her word. Something was wrong.

Just then, the phone rings. Mustang practically knocks his desk over as he goes to grab it.

"Hello?" he asks, holding his breath for the answer to come.

However, the voice isn't Hawkeye's. It's deep and male. "Hello, is this General Mustang also know as the Flame Alchemist?"

Mustang doesn't recognize the voice at all. "Who the hell is this?"

The voice lets out an sinister laugh. "The man who has your precious Hawkeye strapped to a table..."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

Hawkeye wakes to the searing hot pain of a slap across her face. She opens her eyes to see a scraggy man leaning over her, bearing a wide set of crooked teeth.

"There we are," he laughs. "Now we're awake."

She tries to sit up, but her body feels like a thousand pounds. She looks down to see the straps that crisscross her legs and chest, can feel her hands being bound to the underside of the table.

"What the hell do you want!"

Before she can speak, a faint voice echos to her right. It sounds hurt, angry. And strangely, familiar...

"Roy?" she whispers. Hawkeye turns her head to see a man in a dark suit sitting on a chair, a phone to his ear and a smirk on his face.

"Patience is a virtue my friend and I'm afraid you've forgotten your manners. It's accustom to let the caller introduce himself first," he says.

There isn't a response.

"I'm an old friend of Berthold Hawkeye," he continues, "and as you know, he died ten years ago. Apart from his sister and a daughter, he had no other family. But, you already knew that didn't you?"

"After all," he pauses, "you're very well acquainted with one."

Hawkeye wants to call out, but stops herself. She knows better than to do anything rash until she finds out exactly where she is. Exactly who she's dealing with.

"Three of my colleagues and I were actually some of his alchemy students once upon a time. We worked very hard and became quite skilled. All in hopes that one day Mr. Hawkeye would teach us the secrets on how to use flame alchemy."

"Why?" she hears Mustang say.

"Well that's simple," the man responds, matter-a-factually. "So we could use it to burn Amestris down to the ground."

* * *

Mustang grips the phone tightly. "Why wou-"

"We wanted a different future," the man interrupts. "We wanted to feel the country in the palm of our hands, completely under our control. Amestris has been ruled by the same people for centuries now. Don't you think its time for someone else to have a turn?"

Mustang doesn't answer.

"He refused to teach us, and when Mr. Hawkeye died, we thought our dreams were finished. We looked everywhere, but we couldn't find any of his research on flame alchemy. However, just recently we received a tip that his sister was hiding something."

Mustang cringes at this. "And you killed her?"

The man on the phone cackles once more. "Not before we got the information we needed, of course."

"What information?" Mustang can feel his blood begin to boil.

"That Mr. Hawkeye's research on flame alchemy was tattooed onto his daughter's back," he replies in a truly immoral tone. "Making it quite clear what our next objective had to be, didn't it?"

Mustang bangs his fist on his desk. "You kidnapped her!"

The man grows angry. "Yes, and it wasn't as easy of a task as we'd thought! I'm afraid that woman of yours is rather feisty and managed to shoot two of my men!"

Mustang laughs at this. "Good for her," he answers, baiting the man to continue.

But the man grows louder. "Oh really! Did you know that when we went to read the research, most of it was scarred with burns?! Now who do you think might have been trusted enough to see the tattoo, learn flame alchemy, and then use it to carefully destroy what little evidence was left, huh?"

Mustang looks down at his hands. The ones he had used for that very purpose.

"You _will_ tell us what the notes say." It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

"And if I refuse?" Mustang asks, needing to know the parameters.

The man chuckles. "That's rather easy..."

"She dies!"

All of a sudden, Mustang's mind flashes back to Hawkeye's smile. Her giggle. Her blush. Back to the touch of her hands and the smell of her hair. To the way she kissed him, told him she loved him, and held him tightly throughout the night.

His jaw clenches. His muscles tense.

"And just so I make myself clear," the man continues, "I'll let you talk to her."

Mustang brings the phone close to his face, calls out her name.

"Riza?"

He's answered by a muffled voice, unaware of the hand covering Hawkeye's mouth.

He tries to call again, but a pure evil voice comes streaming through the phone before he can make a single sound. "Oh, and when I say talk to her, I really mean hear her scream!"

* * *

Time seems to stop. The world seems to crumble. Mustang can feel his hands tingle, his heart pound. His breath fall short. All the color seems to disappear from the room, replaced by the screams of agony coming through the phone.

"DON'T TOUCH HER! STOP! YOU BASTARD STOP!" Mustang yells as loud as he can, his head about to burst. Minutes feel like hours, the pain feels like an eternity.

"STOP! DAMN YOU! I UNDERSTAND! STOP!" Tears stream down his face, his voice cracks, his cheeks burn. The screams intensify.

"STOP! PLEASE STOP!"

The man's voice is in his ear again. "Do I make myself clear?"

"YES!" Mustang cries, his face white as a ghost. "JUST STOP!"

The screams finally subside. His breath finally returns. But his heart never stops burning with fire.

* * *

The man on the phone is a blur, but Hawkeye can still hear him when he says, "You will meet me at 2:00 today at the-"

She doesn't make out the last words. Her eyelids feel too heavy. Her body feels too weak. The pain is too intense. She feels cold, so cold. And wet, very wet. As if someone had just poured a bucket of water all over her body.

"You come alone, you hear me? And if anything looks suspicious, anything at all, we'll kill her on sight. Do you understand, Flame Alchemist?"

Everything starts spinning. Black walls start to close in all around her. Hawkeye feels like she's falling. Down an endless tunnel of darkness.

"Very well. And just so you know, I won't hesitate to kill both of you with my bare hands, so don't try anything stupid!"

Hawkeye can't help but think as the lights disappear from her eyes.

 _Stupid is what he does best..._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Sweat beads down Mustang's face. His eyes are bloodshot and lifeless. His breath is heavy and hot. He feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest as he sits at his desk, grips the phone tightly in his hand as he puts it back on the receiver.

 _What do I do?_ He thinks.

 _What should I-_

"General Mustang!"

The office door opens and Fury steps in. "We just received news that th-"

He stops at the sight of Mustang's tears.

"Sir?"

* * *

"I WANT ALL MY MEN ON THIS CASE! WHEN YOU REPORT, YOU REPORT TO ME!"

"Sir Yes Sir!"

Mustang's fists are clenched. His jaw is tight. Everything about him resembles the fire in his eyes as he paces down the hallway, his only focus on the mission at hand.

"General." Armstrong is at his side. "May I ask what your strategy is?"

Mustang doesn't stop for even a second. Doesn't look Armstrong in the eye as he answers.

"My strategy is simple. Do whatever it takes to get her back!"

Armstrong knows it's a risk. Knows it might end horribly. But he doesn't protest as they exit the building, realizing that the only thing they can do now, is try...

Mustang crosses to the black car waiting outside. Opens the door and steps in.

"Sir?"

Armstrong crosses to the window, looks Mustang in the eye.

"Be careful."

Mustang nods as he starts to drive. His mind is racing, a million thoughts simultaneously stream through his head.

 _I'll kill them. I'll make them pay for what they've done!_

Tears fill his eyes.

 _Whatever it takes to keep her safe! Even if it means risking my life!_

His vision blurs. The road turns into a fuzzy sea of color.

He whips away his eyes. This is no time for letting his emotions cloud his judgment. This is the time to think. To act. To fight.

* * *

"He's arrived, sir."

The beefy man in the dark suit smiles as he sets down his martini glass.

"Perfect," he says to the man with the crooked teeth behind him. "Now listen very carefully, this man is unpredictable. I have made it very clear that any false move will result in her termination, however, we can never be sure if this news has made a dent in his stubborn little head."

He pauses, reaches down to his feet and picks up a black briefcase. Clicking it open, he pulls out two small guns and hands one to his colleague.

"Just in case he gets any ideas, have this on you at all times."

The other man nods. "Sir, just to clarify, what's the plan?"

His boss smiles as he slips the gun into his suit pocket. "Keep on the girl until I'm done talking to him. Once I'm sure he hasn't brought along any of his friends, I'll give you the signal to bring her up front. However," the man stares deep into his eyes, "make sure you have a gun to her head the whole time. We never know what he might have in store."

As he crosses to the other side of the room, the man behind asks, "And what happens after he's told us what we want to know?"

The boss grins, steps out into the hallway, and just before he closes the door, looks back at the scraggy man now standing alone.

"We kill them both!"

* * *

The house appears to be abandoned. It's windows are dark and tattered. The paint on the front door is chipping and the wooden steps on the porch are rotting away. Mustang drives slowly, stops when he reaches the end of the driveway.

The area is surrounded by a field. It's grass is golden-brown and obviously dying from a lack of water. It looks rather like a giant coffee stain, stretching out for about a quarter mile, until it cuts off at the edge of a dark forest.

Mustang steps out of the car. His eyes dart from one end to the other, examining his surroundings before walking to the old-fashioned door. The boards creak underneath his feet, much like an alarm or guard dog.

His coat is heavy. His eyes are tired. He looks like he's just walked away from a fight.

But he knows it's the other way around. He's walking into one...

As he raises his arm to knock, the door creaks open. The room inside is small and relatively clean, as if it's served home to someone recently.

 _It probably has,_ Mustang realizes.

When he walks in, the scent of cigarette smoke is almost unmistakable. Being around Havoc has made it quiet recognizable.

Suddenly, the door closes behind him. Mustang spins around to see a man with an amused expression standing in the middle of the walkway. He's burly and tall, with a dark stripped suit and a statement pair of sunglasses covering his eyes.

"Well, if it isn't the Flame Alchemist in the flesh," he chides.

He reminds Mustang of an old time gangster more than anything, but he knows better than to underestimate him. It would've taken more than a gangster to take Hawkeye down.

 _Hawkeye!_

"Where is she?!" Mustang bleats, not really in the mood for introductions.

The man grins wider. "You'll see her in due time, but first," he demands, "I need to check you for anything questionable."

Mustang can feel his anger begin to rise, but this isn't the time to let it interfere with what needs to be done. He needs to make sure Hawkeye is safe.

The man proceeds to pat him down, searching for any traces of weapon or transmutation circle.

"You didn't bring anyone with you, am I right?"

Mustang clenches his bare fists, feeling a little uneasy without his gloves. "Yes."

The man grins wider as he finishes checking Mustang's pockets.

"You're clean," the man confesses. He steps back, as if needing to take it all in, before crossing to the other end of the room to pick up a set of chairs. He carries them back, sets one down next to Mustang, who is only just now noticing the double doors in the back of the room.

He wants to burst through them, wants to find Hawkeye on the other side, alive and well. But he knows it's no use. If she had been alive and well, he wouldn't be here.

"Sit," the man commands.

Mustang doesn't hesitate to do as he's told.

The man in the suit sits in his chair as well, stares back at Mustang as if he were an animal in a cage.

"Now then, let's get down to business..."

* * *

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

Mustang stares at the man sitting across from him. Notices his cool demeanor. His stylish shoes. He doesn't know why, but something about him is off. He's too calm. Too collective. Like he's playing a game. And he's won.

"Very well," the man sits up out of his chair.

Mustang rises with a piercing stare and gritted teeth. "Now give her back!"

The man doesn't respond.

Mustang yells louder. "I TOLD YOU WHAT YOU WANTED TO KNOW! NOW GIVE HER BACK!"

The man removes his glasses with a devious grin.

"Funny thing," he begins, placing the shades in his inner jacket pocket, "but I really have no use for either one of you now."

He pulls out a small gun, aims it at Mustang. "So I think it's time we said goodbye."

Mustang doesn't waver. His eyes stay fixed, his breath stays steady. He shows no signs of fear as he stands there, motionless, fixated on the silver barrel staring back at him.

The man snickers. After all, it's over. There's nothing more that could happen. Nothing more that could possibly change his victory. That is, until...

"I couldn't agree more."

 _Clap! Snap!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Fire. All the man sees is fire. Just as well. It's the last thing he sees...

The spark is instantaneous. Red-hot and blistering. So fast, that not even a bullet could match its speed. Mustang's fingers are pressed tight, his focus is matchless, and a hint of a smile spreads across his lips.

After all, the man may have known almost everything about Hawkeye's past, but couldn't have possibly know everything about his. Especially, the fact that he doesn't use transmutation circles anymore.

The collapse of the man's scorched body crashes with a loud thud. Mustang knows it will soon draw attention. He's running out of time. Quickly, he runs outside and unlaces his boot, retrieving the small contents inside.

He strikes it firmly on the ground, throws it high in the air, and watches as gleaming red flames ignite, standing out vibrantly against the blue sky.

* * *

From the far side of the trees, the sparks are clearly seen.

"Let's move out!" Armstrong bellows. "Head to the east end of the house!"

"Sir!"

* * *

Mustang runs as fast as he can.

His nerves are shot. His head is pulsing. However it all seems insignificant as he rushes back inside, towards the doors he had seen earlier.

Mustang doesn't know where he's going, but he'll do whatever it takes in order to find her. To get her back safe.

But the house is deserted. He checks every room, throws open every door, but not a soul remains. Mustang holds his breath as he searches the final room, praying for anything. Any sign that she might have been there.

And then his heart stops.

His hands stop shaking. His eyes stop searching. All of reality seems to stop entirely as he stares at the metal table in the back of the room. The table with the straps hanging from its sides. The table that had no bout been used recently. The table, that was covered in blood...

* * *

The cock of a gun is unmistakable to Hawkeye. It's like music to her ears. From this sound alone, she can determine to caliber of the gun, the position of the gun, and the amount of experience the person has behind the gun.

And the 15 that just rung in her ears, sounded all too familiar.

"Put your hands behind your back!"

The scraggly man with the crooked teeth finds himself surrounded by military men, all armed and prepared to fire.

His arms wrap tightly around Hawkeye, a gun to her head. She's barely conscious, but can still hear Armstrong's booming voice as he yells.

"Drop your weapon!"

The man stands there, motionless. He smiles. "You first or she dies!"

Armstrong reconsiders and backs away slowly.

"Now!"

The man cocks his gun.

Armstrong motions for his men to drop their weapons. They do as they're told.

Hawkeye can feel the gun press harder and harder into her skull, but doesn't have the capability to move. She's too weak. Too sleepy.

Her breaths are short and hard to muster. She's slowly but surely slipping away.

Just then, her hand lightly touches the back of the man's pocket. She can sense the sharp blade, feel the solid handle. She knows it's her only chance.

With all the strength she has left, Hawkeye draws the knife from the man's back pocket and plunges it into his side.

His cry is the last thing she hears. Blood is the last thing she tastes. And the ground is the last thing she touches.

* * *

The first thing to come, is the tears. Second, is the loss of air. And third, is the throbbing pain.

Mustang falls to his knees. His head pulses. His heart shatters. Nothing seems to matter anymore as he stares at the table, a blood-soaked reminder of where Hawkeye used to be.

"No."

His voice cracks. His fits tighten.

"NO!"

Flames burst from his hand, sending the table flying into a nearby wall. It crashes to the ground with a earsplitting clash of metal against concrete.

His breath is heavy and rapid. So much so, that Mustang almost doesn't hear the sirens coming from outside the house.

He gets up quickly, sprinting as fast as he can outside. There he can see the ambulance stationed near the back of the house, hear the voices of about twenty men, all frantically moving in different directions.

He spots Armstrong right off the bat. With his tall and massive stature, it's kind of hard to miss him. His back is turned, his focus on the ambulance. It's doors are opened, and being carried inside is a small stretcher, golden hair draped over one side.

As soon as he spots it, Mustang knows it's her. He knows it's Hawkeye!

Before he even realizes it, he's running. Faster and faster towards the car.

All of a sudden, an arm blocks his way. Mustang looks up to see Armstrong, who's watching as the ambulance drives away, his expression one that Mustang hasn't seen in a long time.

Not since. Hughes.

"What happened? What's going on?"

Armstrong takes a moment to speak, still processing.

"We have the perpetrator in custody, sir. However, I'm afraid that when we got here, the Lieutenant had lost vast amounts of blood. She is in the process of being rushed to the hospital as we speak."

Mustang stands there, static. All rational thoughts have vanished. Only one thing remains; a question.

He feels it eating at his insides, it cannot be contained.

"What did they do to her?"

Mustang's voice cracks, but he doesn't face Armstrong as he asks, just stares at the ground, trying to fixate on something else.

Armstrong doesn't reply.

"Tell me!" Mustang yells. "That is an order, Major!"

Tears start to drip from Armstrong's chin.

"They c—cut her stomach open, sir. They also cut her a—all over her thighs. We tried to—"

Mustang doesn't hear the rest. His feet have already started moving. Closer and closer towards the car where the man in custody lay awaiting.

His eyes are full of blood-lust. No longer can he control all the hurt and pent-up aggression. He can no longer contain his emotions.

It all happens so fast. One moment he's walking, the next his hands are clutched tightly around the man's neck, his feet dangling off the ground as he drags him out of the vehicle.

"General!"

Armstrong's voice rings in Mustang's ears, but he doesn't let go. His grasp only gets tighter.

"Mustang! Stop!"

The crocked toothed man's face starts to turn purple.

Mustang glares at the him with unwavering intensity. He wants to let go, but he can't. Not after everything that's happened. Not after everything he's done.

He can feel the straining of his throat, hear the gasps for air, but his grip stays strong.

All of a sudden, a gigantic metal fist slams hard into Mustang's gut. _His_ gasps for air almost mimic those of the man who falls to the ground, his neck with obvious signs of bruising.

Armstrong ushers some of his men to tend to the man while he approaches Mustang, feeling guilty about the blow but knowing it was needed. Mustang lays face up on the dirt, watches as the clouds overhead drift slowly in the wind.

Armstrong helps him up.

"You need to calm down General. You're not in your right of mind!"

Mustang knows he's right. He needs to get control of himself. But how can he?

 _How can I possibly recover from this?_

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Those two little words can either change someone's life for the better, or for the worse. In that moment, Mustang couldn't have possibly known which one it would be. But he would find out soon enough...

Armstrong hadn't allowed him to visit the hospital until he'd fully recovered from his outburst. It had been hours since he'd last seen Hawkeye. Seen her lifeless body draped over a stretcher while being hauled into the back of an ambulance.

Sitting in the waiting room, Mustang can do nothing but hold his breath as he awaits the long anticipated news. The news that would indefinitely change his life.

A doctor with glasses shuffles down the hallway, stops to chat up one of the nurses on staff before moving on to his next patient. They exchange looks. Mustang can sense the shifting of eyes, all pointing in the same direction: towards him.

The nurse nods her head, the doctor adjusts his white coat, all while talking with bittersweet expressions as they exchange the needed information.

As the doctor starts back down the hallway, the nurse picks up a clipboard before crossing in the opposite direction, towards the waiting room where Mustang already knew she would be heading.

"You must be General Mustang," she says.

Mustang only half responds, but it's enough to get the point across. The nurse continues to speak.

"Would you come with me please?"

Mustang follows as she leads him down the hallway, a lump in his throat.

She doesn't say anything more until they reach the room. Mustang can practically taste the silence. It's almost overwhelming.

" _Say something, dammit!"_ He wants to scream. But his lips stay sealed.

As they enter, the familiar smell of hospital sheets come racing back to him. He hasn't smelled that scent since the whole world went black. But this was different. He could see the world in full color now, and the sight of it lacking from Hawkeye's face was enough to make even the darkest of his days seem insignificant.

"I'm afraid that when she got here, she had lost vast amounts of blood," the nurse explains. "Also, it appears that when she passed out, she hit her head relatively hard while falling to the ground."

Mustang examines Hawkeye closer. She lays face up in the bed. Eyes closed, and body mostly covered with blankets. Her face is pale and breathing faint. Blood stained bandages encircled her head.

He puts a hand to her cheek. It's cold as ice.

"Sir, I'm sorry to say this but the loss of blood accompanied with the swelling from her head injury has caused her body to go into a coma."

And just like that, Mustang's entire world came to a halt...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

It's funny how slowly time can pass. Especially when you're wanting it to pass as quickly as possible.

Two weeks went by, and the more Mustang visited the hospital, the more his hopes seemed to fade.

Hawkeye hadn't shown any signs of recovery and although she was said to have a fifty percent chance of coming out of it, her coma had yet to subside.

Mustang walks down the long subdued hallway. It's become a daily occurrence. Wake up, go to work, visit the hospital. Not very glamorous, but enough to get him through these hard times.

He opens the door to her room and steps in. The sterile fragrance washes over him. He's starting to get sick of that smell.

Hawkeye lays in her bed, her chest the only part of her moving, slowly up and down as she breaths.

Mustang smiles.

"Hey," he whispers.

He moves to the bedside table and picks up a vase of flowers. Dried petals and dust outline its base like a ghost.

Mustang recoils at the sight.

 _Has it really been that long?_

As he empties the vase, the dead and wilted flowers seem so helpless. He can't help but compare them to Hawkeye: his flower. His helpless, lifeless flower.

After replacing the vase with new ones, Mustang pulls up a chair and sits at Hawkeye's side.

Her face is less pale, but still no where close to its normal hue. Mustang envelops his hand into her own.

"It seems everyone has started to slack off since you've been away from the command center," he chuckles.

"If it keeps on like this, the entire military might just fall apart!"

Suddenly the room feels colder. The light seems dimmer. A tear trickles down Mustangs cheek as he remembers something he had once heard a long time ago.

"You had said you'd follow me through hell."

His voice shakes.

"Who would've thought you'd be the one to go through it first..."

* * *

"Excuse me, sir?"

Mustang lifts his head. He'd fallen asleep with it resting on Hawkeye's lap, body still sitting in the chair by her bed.

The nurse at the door smiles. "I'm afraid visiting hours are over now."

Mustang looks down at his watch. He'd been sleeping for over an hour.

"I'll be glad to walk you back if-"

"Oh, that's alright," he interrupts. "I know the way out."

The nurse nods. "I'll give you a minute to say goodbye."

She closes the door.

Mustang turns back to face Hawkeye, his hand still holding her's.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

Her eyelids flicker. Her skin is so soft and so fragile. Mustang can't help but lean over to kiss her.

It's only when he pulls away does he feel her hand squeeze his. He doesn't want to, but he knows it's time to let go. Mustang gets up and heads towards the door, trying not to look back.

But if he had hesitated, if he had stayed just a little bit longer, he would have heard the slightest whisper of 'Roy' on her lips...

* * *

Pain is partially determined on how much you let it consume you. In Mustang's case, pain was having quite a lofty helping.

"You know, dwelling on it isn't going to make anything better."

Havoc's words stung like an freshly opened wound. No matter what was said, nothing seemed to put things into perspective.

How could he just act like nothing happened?

It appeared even the most plausible things were impossible. Moving forward day after day seemed like the most provocative task in the world.

"This isn't healthy, Roy. You've gotta find something else to focus on."

Mustang looks down at the pile of papers on the table. Getting late night work done at the bar had become a mundane part of life.

"What else am I supposed to do? It's not like I have any control over what happens now. All I can do is sit and wait."

Havoc shakes his head.

"But you don't have to sit and wait like this." Havoc gestures to way Mustang is slumped with his head in his hands.

"I know she means a lot to you, but you can't just give up on life until she's back in it."

Havoc snickers.

"Hell! If she were here, she'd be scolding you like a child for not getting your paperwork done!"

Mustang cracks a laugh at this.

"That's true," he confesses. Regretfully, Mustang has yet to tell Havoc about Hawkeye and his new found relationship.

As he starts to collect his work, Havoc lights another cigarette.

"You headed home?" he asks.

Mustang shakes his head. "I'm actually heading to the Lieutenant's place. I've got to feed Black Hayate."

With all the papers now gathered in his arms, Mustang lets out a side smirk.

"And give him his present."

"Prreesssent?" Havoc gurgles, his mouth full of beer.

Mustang's smile grows wider.

"Yay, present..."

* * *

Walking into Hawkeye's apartment, Mustang can immediately hear the tiny paws pattering across the floor, making their way to the entrance.

As Black Hayate comes into view, his face is full of excitement. Though, when he sees it isn't Hawkeye walking through the door, his excitement fades. Slowly, we walks into a corner of the room and curls up into a ball. He rests his head on his paws and lays there, sulking.

Mustang can't help but feel bad for him. He hasn't been able to see Hawkeye at all over the past few weeks. The hospital wasn't exactly dog friendly.

But that's when Mustang remembers why he's here. To remedy Hayate's loneliness.

Slowly, he sets down the medium sized box he had been carrying. This catches Black Hayate's attention as he curiously makes his way over.

Mustang smiles.

"I've got something for you!"

Carefully he lifts the top of the box. Hayate stands on his hind legs to see over the brim, his ears pointed straight in the air.

Inside is a small white dog, it's bright blue eyes starring back at Hayate. The dog's head tilts to the side in awe.

Mustang laughs. "Where are my manners?"

"Black Hayate, this is Memphis Belle. Memphis Belle," he looks to the female dog, "this is Black Hayate."

Mustang lifts Memphis Belle from the box and plops her down next to Hayate.

She proceeds to sniff him, inquisitively.

Black Hayate stands stiff and attentive, as if waiting for her approval. He doesn't move an inch until she has finished.

Memphis Belle licks Hayate on the nose. He falls to the ground as if he's just been mortally wounded. His whole body shakes.

Mustang sits there watching the two.

"I think somebody likes you!" he chuckles.

Black Hayate lays there motionless, completely love struck. Memphis Belle nudges him with her paw, wondering what she had done wrong.

Hayate jumps in the air and starts to run around in circles. Memphis Belle joins him and they start to chase after one another.

"Hey! Don't wreck the place!" Mustang yells, but the two dogs are long gone.

He walks over to the kitchen to procure their food. The apartment is clean and orderly. Only a few dishes lay in the sink and the counters are spotless. Mustang didn't have to do much to ensure Hawkeye's home was still keeping in check.

He reaches over for two dog dishes, sets them on the ground, and fills them with kibble. Immediately, Black Hayate and Memphis Belle come scurrying by, recognizing the familiar sound of food being poured.

Mustang grins.

"Eat up! You'll need your strength if you're going to be playing like this from now on..."

Their silent munches seem like a good enough response.

Mustang makes his way over to the living room to rest on the couch. The room feels so cold and empty. Then again, it hasn't felt the warmth of its rightful owner in a long time.

Just before he sits down, he notices a medium-sized photo album in the corner of the room. It lays opened on a table, it's contents facing down, hidden from sight.

He makes his way over to it, notes the word "Memories" written on it's cover and picks it up.

Mustang sits down and turns the book right side up. Stares at it intently.

 _Memories indeed._

A black-haired boy sits next to a middle-aged man, books and drawings of transmutation circles strewn across the floor. A soft-skinned girl stands by a willow tree, the sun shining brightly behind her. Two awkward looking teenagers laughing side by side, the faintest hint of a blush hiding behind the girls long blonde hair.

Pictures of Hawkeye and himself scattered the open pages.

Mustang's young strong-willed eyes stare right back into his own. He didn't even know these pictures existed let alone they were sitting in Hawkeye's abandoned apartment. It seems he has forgotten more about his past than he'd realized.

His lip starts to quiver.

 _Had she been looking at these the day I asked her to meet me in the park?_

He turns the page.

A young woman with short blond hair gazes into the distance, her beautiful brown eyes standing out against the blue sky. A completely cloudless day.

Unlike in that little apartment, for inside, it was raining.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

The next day was the same as always. Mustang woke up, got dressed, and headed to the command center. The sun shown down so brightly that day, almost like a ray of hope. Mustang couldn't help feeling it was pointless. No amount of sunshine could ever part the clouds he had locked up inside.

As he enters the main office, a loud cry is heard from the other side of the room.

"Roy!"

Havoc clears his throat. "I mean General."

Mustang roles his eyes.

"What are you doing here Havoc?"

Havoc crosses over to give him a pat on the back.

"I wanted to drop in and see my old comrades," he chuckles.

Mustang looks at him skeptically.

"And because Breda said some new ladies started working and I just can't pass up the chance to see them in uniform!"

Mustang moves to sit at his desk in the back of the room, passing Sergeant Major Fuery and Captain Falman.

"Don't you have a girlfriend?!" he yells behind him.

Instantly, Havoc jumps into his arms, tears streaming down his face.

"OH MUSTANG! HOW CAN THE WORLD BE SO CRUEL!"

Mustang can hardly breathe he's squeezing so tight.

"I thought when our fate's were intertwined, we'd be together forever! BUT NO! Life is a vicious and formidable cycle and presents obstacles like no other! And my obstacle just so happened to be the epitome of evil! His name..." Havoc pauses for dramatic effect. "Was Hannes!"

As he stands there bathing in his own despair, Breda walks into the room.

"You know, talking about this whole love triangle thing real brings out the poet in ya, Havoc. And should I assume she left you for this Hannes guy?" he asks.

Havoc nods, grudgingly.

"Here, let's go cheer you up!" Breda says. "You do remember why I asked you to come, right?"

Havoc's gloomy persona completely changes as he gracefully leaps out of the room.

"This is one very single man who just so happened to have the rank of 2nd Lieutenant once upon a time, and although I'm retired, that doesn't make me much older than you fine ladies!"

Mustang smiles as he shakes his head.

 _So much for the poet..._

* * *

A few hours later, Mustang sits at his desk, his subordinates scattered in various parts of the room.

Breda is eating, as usual, Falman filling papers, Fuery working on some type of electronic device, and Havoc struggling to light his cigarette.

The room is quite, not so much as a word is spoken or muttered.

Mustang concentrates on his long since overdue paperwork. It's the only manageable source of stress relief he has these days.

The door opens.

Almost everyone turns to face the entryway with calm and habitual expressions. It's routine after all. Only, this time, something is different. Something, is definitely not as it should be.

The first to react, is Falman. Who stands in front of the cabinets, completely motionless.

Next, is Breda. Who as he sits there just as static as Falman, a bite of sandwich falls right out of his open mouth.

Following him is Fuery, who rests at his station and gasps.

Havoc's succeeding attempt to gasp turns into a coughing sputter, as his lungs are full of smoke and rather preoccupied.

The last person to respond is Mustang, as he slowly lifts his head to access the commotion, his eyes grow wide with disbelief.

Standing there in the doorway, awake and in uniform, is Hawkeye.

Mustang can't believe it. He must be dreaming. After all, Hawkeye was in the hospital. Hawkeye was in bed. Hawkeye was in a coma!

But there she was. Eyes opened wide and posture pristine as she salutes.

"1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye reporting for duty, sir!"

Even the air is speechless. Not a soul moves.

Mustang lets out a exhale like no other. Almost angrily, he makes his way over to her, his eyes fixed like a statue glued to the floor. He walks at a moderate pace, unhurriedly working his way to the other side of the room.

"I meant to contact you sooner General," she calmly explains, "but I decided it best if I-"

Hawkeye doesn't finish, she doesn't have to. She is already wrapped tightly in Mustang's arms.

All of a sudden, tears start to form in her eyes. Her muscles begin to tense. All the emotions she tried so hard to control just seem to come flooding in.

Hawkeye gently slides her arms around Mustang's waist, lies her head on his chest. She needs somebody to hold, and she's needed somebody to hold her.

They stand there for a little while, silent and bittersweet, until Mustang pulls away and looks deep into her eyes with a serious expression.

"I told you to call me Roy," he says, before kissing her in front of everyone.

Hawkeye is so surprised she doesn't know what to do. No one is supposed to know! No one is-

She wants to pull away, but she realizes the people who surround her. The people she's known and worked with for so long. They trust her and she trusts them. _Does it really matter anymore?_

Hawkeye kisses him back, her emotions raw and vulnerable, but there isn't a single doubt in her mind that no matter what comes next, she wouldn't ever regret being held so tightly by the one she truly loved.

Havoc lets out an exasperated sigh.

"It's about GOD DAMN time!"

* * *

Hawkeye cried herself to sleep in Mustang's arms that night. After everything the happened, it was understandable. By defacing her back, she had hoped it would rid her of the burden her father had left her with, but the burns had only made things worse.

They had allowed the ones she loved most to get hurt, and it was all her fault...

Mustang, of course, disagreed.

"It's not your fault! As much as we try to escape it, it is impossible to erase the hardships of our past. And even when these hardships catch up to us, it is impossible to deny their existence. We can only move forward and continue with our lives, hoping one day we can overcome the mistakes of our past and pave a rode to a better future."

Hawkeye hugs him tighter. No one has ever said something so comforting, and no one has ever made her feel the way she felt right then and there.

* * *

"Are you a complete and utter idiot?!"

It isn't a big surprise that Hawkeye recovered rather quickly. Then again, she always does...

"Black Hayate needs to keep up with his daily regiment! He has been running around the house nonstop with that dog, whom I never said I was willing to take in, and has become considerably lazy!"

Mustang sighs.

 _She's back to normal, alright._

"He won't even do paw anymore!" Hawkeye complains. "He'll start to think I've become lenient, and before I know it he won't even listen to me!"

"I think you're overreacting," Mustang insists, but Hawkeye has already moved on to the next problem.

"Furthermore," she continues, "you are extremely behind on your paperwork!"

Hawkeye eyes him sternly.

"It appears you have become even lazier than the dog."

"Hey!" Mustang scoffs.

"I had a good reason!"

Hawkeye rolls her eyes. "An injured comrade is not an excuse for you to slack off! Time does not stop for anyone, especially not for someone who wishes to become Fuhrer."

"But you aren't just a comrade!" Mustang cries.

"You're my girlfriend!"

Nothing but silence follows. Hawkeye stares into Mustang's eyes, dumbfounded.

Mustang just stands there, waiting for her to say something.

Finally she processes, taking the pile of papers in her hand and hitting Mustang in the face with them.

"I never agreed to that," she giggles, Mustang's face squished against the stack.

 _Back to normal indeed._


	8. Chapter 8

3 Months Later:

As Sheska walks down the hall that morning, a stack of books held tightly in her arms, she hears a sound that makes her curious.

She follows it all the way to her office, realizing it's coming from the inside of her closet.

Sheska carefully puts an ear to the door, just as she hears the falling of books and a whispered 'oops', followed by hushed giggles.

"What on earth-"

Sheska's curiosity leads her to reach for the handle, just as the door opens.

Out pops Hawkeye, a serious look on her face, absolutely deadpan.

"Excuse me," she says. "I had to borrow a book."

Calmly she walks out of the room, Sheska watching intently.

When she turns back, Sheska finds herself face to face with Mustang as, he too steps out of the closet, his hair a bit tousled.

"I did as well," he says with a completely straight face, before walking away in the exact same fashion.

Sheska watches him leave, her expression unlike any other.

"Hhhhhuuuuuuhhhhhhhh?!"

* * *

A person's life can change within a matter of minutes. A person's entire world can change within a matter of words. Whether these changes occur or not, there's no denying that, in many cases, the road to recovery will not be easy. However, as long as we keep love in our hearts and hope in our minds, we will always be able to find our way back home. We do not choose our fate, but we do have the power to change it, and no matter what hardships of the past may catch up to us in the future, we can always rely on the ones we love and trust to help us every step of the way; even if that means the ones we rely on are a smoking lovesick enthusiast, a strict sharp-shooting dame, and a black-and-white haired dog... Hey! To each their own.

THE END


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